“WOOF WOOF WOOF!” Annie Jr. barks loudly while she sits on my lap.

 

It’s my day to babysit while Annie has a much needed break which is every hour I am not at work and sometimes while I am at work.    But it’s obvious that Annie is spending plenty of time with her clone teaching her all the things a cat named Annie needs to know.

 

“Annie Jr. why on earth are you barking like that?” I asked.

“I am trying to scare that dog away.   I am allergic to dogs, all cats named Annie are.   My throat will swell up and I will need to be in an iron lung like Mr. Rump?”   Annie Jr. explained.

“You aren’t allergic to Kiko and Kiko is a dog.”  I explained.  “And who is Mr. Rump?”

“Kiko is a zombie, Old Slam, and Mr. Rump from that song, “I visit Mr. Rump in the horse pistol and when I visit Mr. Rump in his iron lung this is what he has to say….you know Odd Al Winkovic!”

“Weird Al?  That’s Mr. Frump I think and your throat wouldn’t close and you wouldn’t need an iron lung if you were allergic to dogs which you aren’t.   You would just sneeze.”

“But cats don’t have sneeze.   That is why we can’t play head and shoulders, sneeze and toes, we don’t have shoulders either.” then “Woof Woof Woof!  Go away dog!   Go away!”

The dog loves kittens and simply wants to play and more than likely Annie Jr. would have fun playing with her, however Annie has her own agenda when it comes to her kitten.   She wants Annie Jr. to love just her and since Moo never listens to Annie, Annie needed to instill fear in Annie Jr.    Mr. Rump and his iron lung.   Weird Al, figures Annie would be letting her clone listen to him.

“There he is!” Annie Jr. screams pointing at the tv.

“Who?” I asked.

“Mr. Rump!!   Annie worships him!”  she continued pointing hopping up and down.

“That’s Mr. Trump,” I said.

“No old Slam, Mr. Rump in his iron lung.”

“He is walking around, right there on tv….where is his iron lung?”

“The secret service has it,” she replies seriously.   “He is a movie star too!”

“No Annie Jr. he had a reality show.”   I replied.

“Yes in reality, he played Sloth on the Boonies.”

“Sloth on the Goonies?   He did not!”

“Look at him Old Slam, Look at him,” Annie Jr instructed,pulling a picture of Sloth out and holding it next to the tv.

“Well maybe a little but, no he did not play Sloth.”

“That’s why Annie voted for him twice, ” Annie Jr.  explained.

“I thought it was because it was easier to rhyme words with Trump?”

“Like Rump?” Annie Jr. asked and rolled over on my lap to catch her tail in her mouth.

“Hi Uncle Norbert!” she yells and jumps to her feet as Norbert creeps into the room.   “Remember me?  Annastasia Jr.”

Norbert looks at her and hisses.    She jumps down swats his tail, he hisses again, and she rubs up against him.

“She bites!” Norbert screams and dashes away.

“I does not!” Annie Jr. yells back then pounces my foot and bites my big toe with her razor sharp kitten teeth.

“I would never bite a cat that is challenging…”  Annie Jr. cried.

“He wasn’t challenging you, Annie Jr. he ran.”

“No Old Slam, he is challenging.   Annie said all of the cats are, she said they are mentally challenging and I should be nice to them.”  Annie Jr. said.

“They are not. Please don’t believe everything Annie says.” I begged.

“Annie is the smartest cat in the World and someday I will be too!” Annie Jr. said, then, “Hi Uncle Snoopy! Remember me, Annastasia Jr.” She jumps down and swats Snoopy’s tail.   “Hi Elaine, ” Annie Jr. screams running over to Janey.

“Her name is Janey,” I corrected.

“No, Annie said it was Elaine,” Annie Jr. said.

“My name is really Elaine?” Janey screamed.

“No it isn’t!”

“But Annie said and she is…” Janey began.

“She is not the smartest cat in the world.”

“She built a teleporter out of poop in a poop factory she built from the ground up,” Annie Jr. said.

I slapped my head.

I would never win….with Annie and now Annies.   Sighs.   Life with two Annies.

 

(I had help writing this blog.   She crawled on the keyboard typed a little and snuck behind the keyboard.)

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